The Making of a Nurse: Pre-Training School(PTS)...#TheAccidentalNurse Pt 2

Hey, welcome back to The Wandering Nurse and to the 5th part in ‘The Accidental Nurse’ series, my nursing memoir.

So far, i have had a very interesting first week, with rules and regulations that confused us and made us wonder what difference there was between college and secondary boarding school! To strange and alarming initiation practices along with the realisation that our training places were still not guaranteed but hinged on the fact that we had to pass all exams and assessments with a passmark of 80% and above, anything below that was a fail and a guarantee kick off the programme. Welcome to Pre-Training School(PTS)! What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger …. and all that…….

Homabay, according to the older year students, had two good hotels, (whose names I totally can not recall, so they will be uphill and lakeside, going with their locations). One uphill, not so far from the MTC and another by the lake side which was quite a trek away. The freshers welcome dinner by the bones tutor and his other colleagues was to be held at the one near the MTC, the uphill one. 

Saturday evening, a group of us girls decided that we would go see what this dinner was all about and if it was all legit and not just another weird fishing stunt( as per rumours we were hearing), also we did not want to be rude, get off the wrong foot with the tutor and his colleagues, whom all worked at the hospital. 

After much debate, we finally arrived at the hotel meeting area, we were late as we planned not to stay, just a quick show our faces and leave, kind of thing. We were surprised and relieved to find some of the boys in our class( including tall, dark and handsome conundrum) already there and also spotted some of the girls from the older year groups popping in and out of various places at the hotel with their spouses/ partners. It was a mixed evening of awkwardness( student/tutor conversations etc) and liveliness( new surroundings, new discoveries) with food and drink and after an hour or so, we left to go back to the MTC. Myself, and the couple of girls I had gone with, did not want to walk back when it was too dark, given it was quite a long way and also we did not feel comfortable staying for any longer. We had shown our faces, and that, we deemed, was enough. 

We later learnt from the boys in our class that the reason they were there was to protect us, as they had been informed that Mr. Bones and his colleagues always did this to every intake as a way to find and choose which freshers they would date. They also confessed that they did not like the idea of us girls in their class being scouted by everyone else but them as potential dating partners.And just like that, I found my tribe, fellow students I was happy and comfortable to hang out with. 

Sunday was here and i asked one of the girls to keep an eye out and tell anyone who asks where i was that i had gone to town, basically lie about my whereabouts because while we were allowed to leave the college and go to town, we were not allowed to leave the town without a written permission slip from the Principal, Deputy Principal or one of the Senior Tutors. So my leaving to go see my mum and collect needed supplies, miles away, was a disciplinary action, but one I needed to carry out anyway. Looking back, with the benefit of hindsight, I am glad I did. 

If you left early enough in the morning, it was possible to make a round trip from Homabay to Kisumu and back in time for dinner service. That was if you were lucky to get a bus or shuttle that went all the way and did not break the journey at Kendu Bay, forcing you to take another bus or shuttle. This was more likely to happen on the return trip as the road from Kendu Bay to Homabay was a rough road and most times virtually impassable when it rained, owing to what was a huge crater like pothole in the middle of the road that filled up with water that was enough to cover a bus! Also the closer you got to Homabay, the soil turned to black cotton soil. So I got on one of the early buses to Kisumu so that I would have enough time to do what I needed to do and be back, taking into account the bad state of the road, before dinner. I was nervous about going back home, about how I would find my mother healthwise but I was also excited to tell her all about college and what had happened so far in the two weeks I had been there. It took a couple of hours to get home, so I quickly collected the stuff I needed including the bucket for water storage and headed to the hospital to visit my mum. 

I did not know what to expect when I went into the hospital to visit mum. Would she be awake, talking? Was she getting better? Would she be discharged soon? How would she cope if she got discharged, given that it was just the two of us? It was a relief when I found that at least she was conscious and talking but she still looked like she needed a bit more time to recover. We talked, I told about my time at the college, what I had witnessed on the labour ward with regards to how the mother’s to be were treated and she made me swear I would never treat any mother that way nor be that kind of midwife. I helped with her lunch which she didn't like as she was on a special diet, no salt or sugar. She told me she would be discharged the following Wednesday and would come visit me on Saturday. I told her I would save her some chicken as we got served chicken on saturdays. Visiting time was over and it was also time to leave if I was to make it back in time before the matron or any of the other people in authority noticed I was missing. So I said my goodbyes with the knowledge and comfort that I would see her the following Saturday when she came to visit. 

I made it back in one piece, armed with my much needed supplies and grateful that I had been able to see mum and I was looking forward to her visit, a chance to show her around. I made it back with enough time to join the queue at the water tap and get my bucket filled with water and join in the banter and conversation at dinner. Our table seemed to be the loudest and most rowdy, which wasn’t surprising given that almost all our year group was there and my emergency landing trio, who were still waiting on answers, and, turned out to be surprisingly hilarious. There was a lot of banter and lively talk and despite their mis-step, I could tell that the emergency landing trio and I were going to be great friends, a friendship based on mutual respect. They were growing on me and I was beginning to realise that if one was to survive the MTC experience, you needed allies, ones who knew their way round all the corners that were likely to trip one up. I wasn’t going to join the hareem and I wasn't going to make enemies of them either.

Monday was back to lessons and routines around that. We were also going to be sitting our first set of exams that Saturday morning, so it was all work and no play with extra study hours. We were all determined to pass and not get kicked out of the programme. My only comfort was that I was going to see my mum on Saturday, when she came to visit, share my chicken with her and maybe be at ease, that everything at home was good and that mum was getting the care she needed. What I did not know was that, it was the last time I had seen her alive and my goodbye was final. She died on Thursday the 19th of September 1996, just four days after I had seen her and a little over two weeks since i had reported to college. The college decided to keep that piece of information from me.

That’s your lot for today. Look out for the next series as i find out about the death of my Mother and how that changes things for me, a harrowing road traffic accident ad the end of Pre- Training School(PTS). Thank you for reading/listening.